“Amos will have them brushing the horse down now, I expect,” Lord Vincent remarked, breaking the edgy silence that had settled about them. Well, edgy for Nia, anyway. Lord Vincent still seemed perfectly relaxed, but then she didn’t imagine anything ever discomposed him for long. “It might take a while. In fact the boys are enjoying themselves so much they will probably make sure it does. I hope you are not in a hurry to be gone.”
“I don’t want to become a burden. I am sure you have better things to do than entertain me. I am perfectly happy to wait here alone for the boys.”
“Nonsense.”
He regarded her with absorption for so long that she reacted to his intense scrutiny somewhere deep within her core. When heat invaded her face it occurred to Nia that he probably knew precisely what he was doing to her; insufferable man! She did not understand it at all, but assumed it would be better to look away from him before she became further embroiled in the silence of shared sensibility. Instead, she continued to drown in the depth of his intelligent eyes, helpless against the raging desire she felt for this compelling, at times confusing and yet always elegant aristocrat. She was unsure whether she was more relieved or disappointed when, with a tiny smile of understanding, he eventually looked away first.
“There is nowhere I would prefer to be,” he said casually, as though nothing remarkable had just passed between them. From his perspective it probably had not, and that knowledge helped Nia to regain her dignity.
“Then you are easily pleased,” she said, more sharply than she had intended.
“And you must learn to accept a compliment.”
“Thank you, then,” she said primly.
His lips quirked. “You are entirely welcome, Miss Trafford.”
“We have spoken a great deal about my family. Now it’s your turn. Tell me about yours.”
“There is nothing mysterious about us. We must seem like a very dull lot in comparison to your colourful existence. Zach is now duke. Amos is his heir and he and Crista are about to produce the first member of the next generation.”
“Her Grace must be in alt at the prospect.”
“She is very glad to have two of the six of us married, that I can assure you.”
“And there is less pressure on you as a consequence.”
He smiled a devastatingly engaging smile that heated the air between them, at least in Nia’s imagination. “Unfortunately not. She lives in expectation of the rest of us falling into line.”
Nia laughed at his theatrical shudder. “Your sister is married to Lord Romsey. I know that because Frankie mentioned it to me in her correspondence. I believe I met him once in Belgium. A very distinguished diplomat, if memory serves.”
“Quite so. He is leaving the diplomatic service, or attempting to, but the Foreign Office keep finding reasons to delay his departure. Annalise is busy revamping her new home and setting up a charity school for the underprivileged in her district. She was kidnapped from a society ball in the dead of winter, you see.”
“How awful.”
“Fortunately, she managed to escape and find her way home in the middle of a blizzard.”
“Good heavens!”
“She saw a lot of destitution that night and it left her with a firm resolve to do something to help the disadvantaged.” Lord Vincent smiled. “She will, too. Once she sets her mind to a project, she possesses the Sheridan determination to see it through. She already has Lady St. John helping her, as well as my mother and Portia.”
“Is that what I am to you?” she asked on a whim.
Lord Vincent elevated one brow. “I beg your pardon?”
“You mentioned the Sheridan determination to see projects through, and I wondered if you saw me as a project.”
He fixed her with a confused expression. “Why ever would you think that?”
She spread her hands. “Why else would you want to know my family?”
“And yet your grandfather attracts attention everywhere he goes.”
“He did, once.”
“But now you have reason to hide him away and think that diminishes your own value.” Lord Vincent shook his head. “What a very low opinion you have of your own self-worth, Miss Trafford. We shall have to do something about that.”
“The way I look upon myself is no concern of yours.”
Their gazes locked, and held. “I have decided to make it so.”
“I cannot for the life of me begin to imagine why.”
“Which only goes to prove my point.”
Keeping up with Lord Vincent’s conversation was making Nia’s head ache. Even so, a small part of her was glad he seemed determined to further their acquaintanceship. It was a very long time since she had met a gentleman who made her heart beat a little faster whenever he fixed his attention upon her. She was serious about remaining unmarried and seeing her grandfather comfortably through his remaining years. That meant she could indulge in a friendship with a member of the opposite sex without unrealistic expectations clouding the issue. Lord Vincent and his brothers must be relentlessly pursued by ambitious females whenever they showed themselves in society. By having warned him that she had no such expectations—which is, she supposed, what she had unintentionally done earlier—he felt safe in her company.
That was a good thing. Definitely a good thing.
“We have drifted away from the subject of your family, Lord Vincent.”
“So we have. What more would you like to know?”
“I have always wondered what gentlemen of means do with themselves all day. I suppose it is possible for you to remain idle if you wish, but somehow I cannot see that being enough for any of you. Lord Amos runs the stud and, presumably, the duke looks after his various properties. But what of you and Lord Nathaniel?”
“I take care of the family’s investments. I have a head of figures, you see, and make sure all our funds are earning as much as they possibly can.”
“I see.” Nia nodded, wishing her own family could have had someone as responsible as Lord Vincent to manage their finances. Perhaps then they would still have some left to manage. “And Lord Nathaniel?”
“Annalise’s husband and Zach are talking about arranging proper policing of the area between Winchester and Southampton. There is too much crime, and not enough authority figures to contain it.”
He stretched his long legs out in front of him and Nia tried very hard not to focus her gaze on his strong thighs, encased in tight-fitting buckskin. She did not manage it but told herself that was only because her artistic eye was interested in their shape. She blushed furiously when Lord Vincent caught her gawping. She quickly looked away, but not before she noticed a teasing little smile playing about that full mouth of his. It was as though he had guess the nature of her thoughts: thoughts had no place inside the head of an unmarried woman. Well, it was hardly her fault if a combination of her grandfather’s circle of unusual friends and living constantly in the company of a reformed courtesan had made her a little too aware. She had attended their rather wild parties since the age of fifteen. No one seemed to think it was unusual that she should be there, and felt no necessity to restrain their behaviour as a consequence.
They had been informative times.
“Nate has not long finished university,” Lord Vincent said. “He will most likely get involved in that enterprise with Romsey.”
“That won’t be easily achieved. Policing highway robberies, I mean. I think it very unfair that the men who did manage to come back from France after fighting for king and country cannot find gainful employment. One can hardly blame them for turning to crime if that is the only way for them to feed their families.”
“You have inherited your grandfather’s philanthropic attitude.”
“And that is a bad thing?”
“Not in the least. What’s more, I tend to agree with you, but if we did not have laws to protect people and their property from harm then there would be anarchy.”
“That is undenia
ble, I suppose.” Nia was in control of herself again and managed a brief smile. “Just be prepared to be unpopular.”
This time his smile was tinged with a wicked edge. “Just so long as you do not take me in dislike, Miss Trafford.”
“Just so long as you do not give me any reason to, Lord Vincent.”
“Touché.”
Where were the boys? Nia didn’t feel the least bit in control of this conversation and she so hated not to be in command of herself. She wished she could decide why Lord Vincent had taken such an interest in her. Why her heart fluttered and warmth streaked through her body when he looked at her in a certain way. Perdition, she was the sensible, level-headed Trafford, and could not afford unrealistic flights of fancy, even if they were conducted within the privacy of her own thoughts.
“You must also deal with feuding villagers.” Nia smiled. “Perhaps there is more to being in a position of authority than I had realised and there is no time for idleness in your family after all.”
“You saw for yourself yesterday just how intense the feuding has become.” Lord Vincent frowned. “Those boys did not pick on Leo and Art because Ruff stole a few sausages, but because they thought your nephews were spies sent from Shawford.” He shrugged. “Heaven alone knows what there is to spy on, but spying is considered a far greater crime than thievery in the eyes of the villagers. And the tragedy is that the adults encourage the children to think that way.”
“Why do they feud?”
“That is a very good question to which no one can give you an honest answer. We do know it is about our family, in one way or another.”
“Both villages wish to claim ownership?”
“Something like that. Crista coming from Shawford does not help. Compton villagers feel disadvantaged because of that connection. Amos was smitten the moment he saw Crista and no one in the family was prepared to let the feud stand in the way of Amos’s happiness.”
“Your family really are as open-minded as they appear on first acquaintance. I should have thought, excuse me, but I—”
“You would expect us to inter-marry within the aristocracy?”
“Well, yes.”
Lord Vincent laughed. “Only two of the six of us have married thus far, but in both instances they have been love matches.”
“Then I am very glad for those concerned. Everyone deserves to be loved.” It felt as though his deep, penetrating gaze reached into her soul. It definitely made her shiver. “Are you cold, Miss Trafford?”
“No, I am not cold.” She looked away from him, but probably not quickly enough to disguise the nature of her thoughts from his all-seeing eyes. “And returning to Her Grace’s invitation to dine, I think it will be impossible for us to accept it.”
“But it is not your grandfather’s unpredictability that most concerns you?”
Busy examining her folded hands, Nia’s head jerked upwards. “What do you mean?”
“I think you know.” He briefly placed one of his own hands over hers, and as quickly removed it again. “You are worried about exposing my mother to the company of an ex-courtesan.”
“How did you know?”
He chuckled. “I did not, but by not denying it you have confirmed my suspicions. You like your grandfather’s paramour very much, and are not prepared to put her in a situation where you think she might feel disadvantaged.”
She acknowledged his statement with a brief nod. “I could not manage without Sophia. Whatever she was forced to do as a younger woman, was done with her own survival in mind. She could have left Grandpapa when he started to lose his wits; most women in her position would have done so, but Sophia is not most people. She is loyal, loving, patient and kind, and cannot help the circumstances that made her what she is.”
His smile was a warm caress. “You cannot protect the entire world, single-handed.”
“I only want to protect my grandfather and Sophia.”
“And the boys, and your brother.” He tilted his head and sent her another of his devastating smiles. “Did I forget anyone?”
Not anyone, but a great deal of anythings. Just for a moment, Nia was tempted to unburden herself by telling him absolutely everything. The real reason for Sean’s visit to London and her fear that she would be unable to cope with the aftermath. But common sense prevailed. It was enough that he was her friend, or appeared to want to be. She would not exploit that situation.
“I do hope you will change your mind about dining with us,” Lord Vincent said when Nia remained silent, consumed by her own thoughts and fears. “Sophia will be as welcome in our drawing room as you are. I also suspect she will make a lively addition to it.”
“Oh yes, certainly she will be that.” Nia searched his face for signs of derision, but found none. “You really mean it, don’t you?”
“I never say things I do not mean.”
“Then thank you. I promise to speak with Sophia, but I cannot promise that we will take up your invitation.”
“Then you have at least provided me with the perfect excuse to call upon you tomorrow and see if you have reached a decision.”
“Don’t you have funds to manage, or criminal gangs to control?”
“Are you being flippant, Miss Trafford?”
She smiled at him. “I believe I am, Lord Vincent.”
Once again their gazes locked and Nia was conscious of awareness stretching between them like an invisible bond. His presence affected her on every possible level, bringing her body alive in previously unimagined ways. Her tangled reflections were brought to a premature end by the sound of the boys calling to them, which she considered to be just as well. They moved slightly apart, even though a respectable amount of daylight already separated their bodies, and smiled at the twins as they barrelled towards them.
“Aunt Nia, we had the very best time…”
“That was a stallion. Did you see us?”
“Yes, I saw you.” Laughing, Nia stood and tousled their heads. “I hope you expressed your thanks to Lord Amos. It was very good of him to make time for you.”
“We did.”
“I think he was grateful for our help, as well.”
Nia observed the brothers share an amused glance. “I dare say he was. But now, gentlemen, you must excuse us. I think we have outstayed our welcome.”
“Not a bit of it,” Lord Amos replied. “The boys are always welcome, as are you.”
“Please don’t tell them that, or you will never be rid of them.”
A short time later, Nia waved over her shoulder to the brothers as she drove the gig away from the Park, wondering what she had just set in motion.
Chapter Seven
Vince watched until the ancient gig turned the corner in the driveway and was lost from view. He returned to the house in a reflective frame of mind and joined Zach and Amos in the former’s study.
“Engaging boys,” Amos remarked. “And with instinctive horse sense, too. They didn’t exaggerate in that respect.”
“Thank you for taking the time with them,” Vince said. “You made their year.”
“It was amusing.”
“Amos needs to get some practise in with children,” Zach said, grinning.
“It will be a while before mine is ready to take to horseback.”
“Even so.” Zeke’s booted feet rested casually on the edge of his priceless desk: a family heirloom passed down through the generations. “What is the real reason for Trafford’s impoverished state, Vince? Did your Miss Trafford enlighten you?”
“I thought you might be able to tell me,” Vince replied. “What with Lady St. John being so intimate with the family.”
Zach flexed both brows. “I can’t imagine why you suppose she would confide in me.”
“Nothing would please our mother more,” Amos replied, sharing a glance with Vince.
“Our mother amuses herself by assuming too much.”
Amos flashed a wicked smile. “If you say so.”
“What did you a
nd Miss Trafford talk about while you were cosily ensconced on that bench for so long, Vince?” Zach asked.
“Spying on me, Your Grace?”
Zach chuckled. “Idle curiosity.”
“You never ask a question out of curiosity.”
“Well, I am curious about Trafford and his straitened circumstances. And, for what it’s worth, I took a liking to the chit. She has spirit and a lively wit. She didn’t appear overwhelmed to meet us en masse, either, which speaks volumes for her resilience. I’ve heard it said we can be intimidating, especially on home ground.”
“I agree,” Amos said. “It’s unusual for one so young to be so self-assured, but I suppose she has been exposed to all levels of society for many years. Artistic types tend to play by a different set of rules.”
“What I have learned is that once Trafford received public acclaim, he set about collecting protégés and helping them with their own careers.”
“And now he’s losing his wits, they are taking advantage of the situation and flocking to him in droves, I dare say.” Zach shook his head. “Ambitious people are never slow to exploit weaknesses. No wonder Miss Trafford wants to keep her grandfather’s condition private.”
“She has seen off most of the hangers-on, but two still remain. Trafford is planning another exhibition of landscapes, presumably because he needs the blunt.”
“Shame he doesn’t still do portraiture,” Amos said. “That is what he is known for, and he’s damned good at it. Or was.”
“Miss Trafford says he still paints, always at night for some reason. Sometimes the results are remarkable, sometimes dire. There is no rhyme or reason to it. But he can no longer do what he excels at because the sitter would notice his condition and it would become impossible to keep it a secret.”
“He could do a portrait of Zach,” Amos suggested, brightening at the thought. “One of him in all his ducal splendour is long overdue for our gallery here at the Park.”
“Now there’s a possibility,” Vince mused, brightening as he paced the length of the room, allowing Amos’s off-handed suggestion to take root in his brain. “You won’t mind if he seems a little scatter-brained, will you, Zach? Obviously, the portrait wouldn’t be for sale but it could form the centrepiece of Trafford’s exhibition, and it would draw people in droves. They would see he has lost none of his talent and hopefully that would persuade them to invest in one of his landscapes, especially if you suggest they will soon be in great demand.”
Ducal Encounters 03 - Portrait of a Duke Page 8